This picture sums up the dream I had last night. And the song represents the soundtrack of the dream.
I lived in a dystopia, where people had to work in order to purchase oxygen. Why? Because at night, CO2 levels were higher in the air and as a result, one could easily suffocate. There was another problem. Due to the lack of oxygen, people became slower and less intelligent.
Although I lived in that place for some time, I still couldn’t understand why I had to do this. Needless to say, there weren’t any plans for escape. I simply had to do it.
For some reason, I slept in a caravan. Very basic, old, but it had a really good oxygen ventilation system. However, I didn’t always use it to the maximum potential; I was breathing in CO2 at night, and there were times I could feel it burn my nostrils. I was unable to sleep or to even think clearly.
One day I woke up and went to a park which resembled the uploaded picture. In the middle of nowhere, but within walking distance. There weren’t any cars near by – or streets. It wasn’t as green as a park can be, and it didn’t look like a healthy park. It was dry with green patches. Although it was in its majority flat, there were two or three areas that were layered. On those green layers, one could see birds, and fish, which were accustomed to the air. Water must have been a luxury; I’m not sure as I didn’t see much water around.
At some point a construction engineer looked up in the sky and asked for the platform to be lowered. A large patch of fresh green grass appeared. I stared at the process without understanding much.
Before I realised it, it was already too late. I dozed off and woke up driving a car with a friend of mine sat in the passenger seat. I was driving in the dark, and I couldn’t see very well. For some reason my body kept sliding off the driver’s seat, as if I was trying to reach the accelerator. It was a manual car, but behaved like an automatic, so I didn’t really have to reach for the clutch.
We didn’t know where we were going. At some point, she took over the wheel as I was unable to drive. I dozed off again and woke up driving a motorcycle. I drove in a dead end. It was situated by a side street, through an arch made of concrete. It looked like a circular dead end. I could distinguish broken windows on the enclosing building with all sorts of plants emerging. This place seemed safe, but at the same time, so far from anything or anyone.
I don’t know if this was the final destination, it didn’t feel like it. But then I woke up, so there goes my dystopian dream.
My interpretation: writing a doctoral dissertation makes you feel suffocated. You distinguish good parts in a document you judge as mediocre. There are times you feel there’s no point, and then you move on without being too conscious about it. And there are some dead ends, in which you can think of constructive ways to escape.
Unfortunately, reality isn’t as cool as this dystopia.